


Overcome

by starbuckscully



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Related, M/M, Mark of Cain, Season 9 Spoilers, suicide TW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1539413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbuckscully/pseuds/starbuckscully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An imagined ending to season 9. Involves the Mark of Cain, possessions, parallels, confessions, choices, autonomy, and second chances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overcome

Dean approached the crumbling general store with soft footsteps. He clutched the First Blade in his left hand for now, wary of its power over him when connected with the Mark on his right arm. With his other hand he signaled for Sam to veer to the far side of the building and Cas to the near one. He wanted them to cover the doors, but by the looks of it, a strong shoulder to a wall would be enough to create a new exit from the ramshackle structure. Sam nodded in acquiescence and slunk around the corner without a sound. Cas looked him in the eyes in that wordless way that assured Dean he understood, then slipped away in the other direction. Dean hefted the Blade and stepped gingerly onto the wooden porch.

The pressure of his foot on the plank elicited a loud creak and Dean cursed quietly, freezing in place. Of course Abaddon would have a fetish for creepy abandoned old towns. It looked like something out of an old spaghetti western, or maybe a post-apocalyptic dystopia. He listened for any sound from the inside to indicate that Abaddon or her lieutenants had noticed them. Nothing but the same low murmur of voices and shuffling of feet came to his ears. He breathed out quietly and released a fraction of the tension he’d been holding. The element of surprise was still theirs.

From surveillance Dean knew that this was a rare opportunity to engage Abaddon with only two by her side. The rest of her entourage was off elsewhere, causing mayhem, no doubt – something to worry about after this fight. _If_ he survived it, that was. Abaddon was not to be underestimated, even with the Mark of Cain and the First Blade. Taking her down was hugely important – he knew that much. Imagine if after all they went through, all they sacrificed in averting the Apocalypse, Luci’s pet showed up and laid waste to the whole Earth anyways. He had to finish her. But what happened after that… Dean found himself not caring much anymore. He didn’t want to think about that now, so he pushed it aside and braced to storm the building.

He swung open the front door in one swift motion. It banged loudly on the interior wall, drawing three sets of black eyes toward him.

“Miss me?” Dean taunted Abaddon. He raised the Blade in front of him with two hands, hoisting it like a short sword. He felt the energy of it course through his body like electricity. The world seemed to close around him till all that was left was him and his foe. Everything else was muted and foggy, but she was at the center in sharp focus. Striking her down would be more than satisfying - it would be a joy.

Abaddon chuckled gleefully and sauntered toward him, black stiletto boots clacking with each step, echoing the heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“How considerate of you to bring my new suit right to me,” she purred. “Dry cleaning home delivery?” She blinked and her eyes flashed back to her human vessel’s amber brown.

“Yeah, well, the only delivery you’re getting is this blade to your heart!” Dean countered lamely.

She laughed and paused in her approach. “Good thing you’re so pretty, sunshine.”

Her demon henchmen started to approach him threateningly until she waved for them to stop. She nodded to the other doors. They stood in place, confused.

“You don’t think he came here alone, do you?” she bit out in exasperation.

Dean stifled the rising feeling of panic as enlightenment arrived on the countenances of Abaddon’s dimwitted bodyguards. Sam and Cas could handle themselves. This was why they’d come here. They’d take out the minions, leaving him to focus on Abaddon. Dean would make it worth their while.

He ignored the noise from the fighting as it started up outside the shack. Here was the primo Knight of Hell right in front of him, and it was glorious. A now familiar ecstasy elevated his consciousness. He felt dangerous, powerful.

“You hitched your wagon to the wrong star,” Abaddon cooed, looking at the Mark on Dean’s forearm. “Did you _really_ think this would end well for you?”

“All I thought is how it’d end for _you_ ,” Dean snarled. “That was plenty to sell me.”

He stepped back into the doorway, eyes taking in the room rapidly, evaluating his best mode of attack. His skin felt like it was on fire and his whole body throbbed, but it was a blissful kind of pain that only spurred him further on.

“That’s what I like about you, Dean,” Abaddon continued, matching his retreat by sashaying toward him. “Revenge at any price, consequences be damned! Quite literally, in this case. We would have made a good team, you know. Still could…”

She raised an eyebrow and bit her lip in a way that managed to be both menacing and seductive at the same time. It made Dean want to shake off the filth of her, but he held still and refused to yield another inch.

“That’s alright,” she said with a smile and twinkle of mischief in her eye. “Breaking you will be more fun anyways.”

She lunged for him with sudden and terrifying intensity. Scarlet painted nails reached toward him as she kicked at his hand to knock the Blade from his grasp. Years of training his body to react autonomously saved Dean as he ducked out of her way in the instant before she claimed him. He slashed wildly at her with the Blade as he crashed into what passed for a wall behind him. The sharp edge nicked her on the right shoulder. She looked down in surprise, face contorting with rage.

“No matter,” she huffed, swinging at him again. “I’ll be slipping into a fresh body soon enough.”

Dean thrust the Blade at her neck, but this time she swerved to avoid it. The miss threw him off balance and he stumbled forward. Abaddon quickly took advantage of his compromised posture, gripping him roughly by the shoulders and flinging him across the room. He crashed hard into a wood table, splintering it around him. He looked up to see Abaddon looming over him.

“Reckless,” she observed. “Your pathetic death wish is sucking the pleasure out of killing you.”

Dean glared at her but said nothing. Let her have her monologue. He’d use the time to plan his next move. If he could come up with one.

Abaddon crouched down to his level and grasped his right wrist in a supernaturally tight grip. She twisted suddenly and he felt a sharp pain shoot through his body. He heard the crunching of bones but it seemed oddly foreign to him, as if it were happening to someone else. The Blade fell from his hand and she kicked it behind her across the room.

Immediately he felt the loss of it. Vertigo struck him and he struggled not to be sick. It was like having the wind knocked out of him by an ogre and being pricked by a thousand tiny needles at the same time. He forced himself to breathe in, then out, then in again.

“I hate it when losers give up before I’m done,” Abaddon sneered. “But I learned a long time ago how to get quitters like you back in the game.”

She leaned in till her face was inches from Dean’s. He held her gaze, challenging her, refusing to back down even in his broken state.

“Take from him the one thing he can’t live without,” she whispered.

As quickly as she’d snatched him, Abaddon released her hold and strutted out of the building. Dean gasped in pain as the blood pumped back into his broken hand. He looked to the South wall where she’d just exited. _Cas was out there._

Dean scrambled to his feet. He gave a fleeting glance to the rubble on the opposite side of the room where the Blade was now hidden. No time to find it. He had to get to Cas right away.

As he ran to the doorway, he reached for his backup knife with his left hand. He hoped all that ambidextrous practice would serve him well now. At the doorway he peered out cautiously. No sense in getting ambushed in his haste. The corpse of one of Abaddon’s men lay motionless in the dirt, no doubt killed by Cas. He followed the telltale heeled boot prints in the soft ground indicating that Abaddon had turned left.

He rounded the corner of the building and immediately relief washed over him as he saw the back of a familiar dark tan coat . Cas was standing alone, facing the other direction, safe.

Dean stopped and hunched over to catch his breath, leaning on his left knee with his good hand for support.

“Cas, keep a look out for Abaddon,” Dean yelled to him. “She was headed this way…”

Dean’s voice trailed off as he followed the boot prints to a shaded spot against the back of the store. Abaddon – or her vessel, at least – lay propped up against the back wall. Her eyes were closed but her chest rose and fell steadily, like someone in a deep sleep, or coma…

“Hello, Dean.” It was Cas’s voice that called out to him, but it was so very wrong. None of the warmth he was accustomed to receiving from his friend was there, replaced instead by the taunting lilt of his enemy.

The trench coat clad figure turned toward him, revealing a wicked grin artificially twisting Cas’s face. Dean felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over him. _Of course._ That crafty bitch! How could he stab her when doing so would kill Cas too? He straightened up slowly and took a tentative step toward Abaddon.

“Hey, this is between you and me,” he started. “Cas has nothing to do with it, so uh, why don’t you smoke out and we can get back to… negotiations…”

“I _thought_ this would get your attention!” The words were formed in Cas’s mouth, but it was jarringly apparent that they belonged someone else entirely. Cas’s body strolled toward him, tall and loose, hips swaying with each step. The hairs on the back of Dean’s neck stood straight out. Memories of the Leviathan possessing Cas came flooding back to his mind. He remembered his encounter with poor Jimmy Novak too – same body, totally different person. It gave Dean the creeps.

“Terrible fashion sense, this one,” the creature that looked like Cas was saying. Dean forced himself to focus. He could hear the sounds of fighting from the other side of the building. Was Sam still engaged with the other demon? A burst of fear shot through him at the thought that Sam was in trouble, but it subsided as he realized it hadn’t been long at all since their arrival. Sam could take out the demon with a few more minutes, but Dean couldn’t rely on him to come to the rescue.

“I won’t be staying here long anyways,” Abaddon continued. “Not when such a fine vessel is standing right in front of me.”

“What do you want with me?” Dean demanded. “Bored with your rockabilly ginger already?”

“Mmm she has been fun,” Abaddon conceded. “But my interest in you is for more than just your good looks, hot shot.”

“Not that you aren’t pretty,” she smirked. “He certainly thinks so.” Abaddon tilted Cas’s head back and laughed. “I’m not the only one in here with fantasies about _getting in_ you.”

Dean swallowed and willed his cheeks not to burn. She was just saying that to throw him off, to distract him so she could take advantage.

“Ooo dirty mind for an angel,” she purred. Cas’s eyes were closed as if he – she – were lost in imagination. Suddenly they opened and connected with Dean’s. “Do you want to know what else he’s thinking about you?”

“That’s enough,” Dean replied curtly.

“I always get what I want, Dean Winchester,” Abaddon snarled just above a whisper. She closed the distance between him and stared him down menacingly. “You and Sam are destined for great things! The merger of the lines of Cain and Abel. How sweet it will be to take Michael’s vessel! With you I will be unstoppable! And I’ll keep your little brother for my father when he returns. Oh, yes, he _will_ return.”

Cas’s hand grabbed Dean’s shirt collar and yanked down till his anti-possession tattoo was exposed. Dean grimaced but did not budge.

“You don’t have a choice,” Abaddon continued. “I will have you one way or another. You either give it up now… _or I’ll break your boy toy’s scrawny neck._ ”

“If I say yes, you won’t hurt Cas?” Dean asked. “Or Sam?”

“Cross my angelic heart,” Abaddon answered him.

Dean’s mind raced through all the implications. These could be his last moments of free will. Could he trust Cas or Sam to do the right thing, and kill him once Abaddon possessed him? Or would they lack the conviction, and he’d be forced to live on, a slave in his own body, conscious witness to the death and destruction wrought by the new Knights of Hell?

It didn’t matter. He had no choice. Not with Abaddon looking out at him through Cas’s eyes.

“Okay, do it,” Dean announced stiffly.

Cas’s face twisted in an unnatural smile and his other hand pressed against Dean’s chest to burn off the tattoo.

Dean couldn’t repress a shout of pain at the sudden sensation of burning flesh. His knees buckled and he slouched in Abaddon’s grip. A moment later his head whipped back violently and his mouth was forced open. Black smoke raced down his throat and into his lungs, scalding his insides and leaving an unpleasant coppery aftertaste.

He raised a hand to his mouth, but nothing happened. He was paralyzed. Trapped. His body started to move of its own accord. His footing became solid. His spine straightened. His head tilted and Cas’s horrified face came into focus in front of his eyes.

“That’s much better,” he felt himself say. His jaw moved awkwardly. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. Wrong.

He felt Abaddon shake out his arms, stretching and taking in her new body.

In a flash she brought up his left hand and clenched it around Cas’s neck, catching him unawares. With his right hand, healed now, she twirled an angel blade.

Dean screamed in protest, but no sound came out. _You said you wouldn’t hurt him, you lying bitch!_ He banged on the walls of his mind in vain.

“He’s throwing a tantrum, you know,” Dean heard his voice say. It took him a moment to realize Abaddon was talking to Cas. “Of course I said I wouldn’t harm you. Demon, remember? We lie.” She laughed a laugh entirely unlike Dean’s. “But I don’t make deals. I take.”

Cas glared into his eyes angrily. Dean knew Cas was sending waves of hate at Abaddon, not him, but he felt the heat of it anyways.

“Don’t think that my affection for Dean will prevent me from killing you, Abaddon,” Cas said coldly.

Dean could have sighed in relief if his body would have let him. Cas would do the right thing after all, save the world. He took in Cas within in his gaze appreciatively.

Oh no. Dean knew that look. That was Cas’s _bluffing_ look. Did Abaddon know too, now that he’d thought it? Could this get any worse??

“We’ll see about that,” she said with a touch of humor. “So, Dean, where do you want to start?”

His hand yielding the knife appeared in his line of sight and he watched as Abaddon cut off the top buttons on Cas’s dress shirt. Why did everyone have to rip off Cas’s shirt to torture him?

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it, Dean,” his own voice said. “Or do you want to go lower? Mmm I could cut myself of those hipbones… but I’m doing the cutting today.”

She slid the knife down Cas’s torso. She used the tip to untuck his shirt, then slid the cool side of the blade across his lower abdomen.

“Dean, I know you’re in there,” Cas’s voice interrupted suddenly. Abaddon lifted Dean’s head so he could see Cas’s distraught face. “You can take control, stop this.”

Abaddon’s laugh bubbled up in his body as he felt his heart sinking. Oh, Cas, no. It’s too late.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to stop,” Abaddon teased. She took the knife up to Cas’s chest and pressed till a bead of dark red blood appeared on the tip. She slid the blade down in a smooth cut. Dean could see Cas breathing heavily, but he didn’t resist. Abaddon leaned forward and licked up the line of blood. Dean tasted the warm metallic liquid on his tongue. It was horrifying, but he was powerless to do anything about it.

“Dean, I know you,” Cas picked back up. “If anyone can break through, it’s you.”

“Such blind devotion,” Abaddon intoned. “That’s _adorable_.”

If Cas heard her mocking, he didn’t acknowledge it. “I never told you this,” he continued seriously, “…when I was human, and alone, I-I thought I’d lost all my faith. But _I_ prayed to _you_ , Dean. I prayed to you a thousand times, even though I knew you couldn’t hear me. Somehow just the thought of you gave me strength.”

Dean wished he could say something, wished he could take Cas by the shoulders and shake him to his senses. He didn’t deserve this hero worship. He never had. And after this year? When he’d made so many mistakes? And pushed Cas away so coldly? How could he ever live up to Cas’s idealization of him?

Abaddon dropped the knife and raised her other hand to circle Cas’s throat.

“Dean, please,” Cas pleaded. “Does anyone other than Sam know you like I know you?”

Dean watched helplessly as Cas clawed at Dean’s own hands tightening on his neck.

“I believe in you,” Cas said hoarsely.

Dean struggled against his own body, willing his fingers to unclench. He looked into Cas’s glossy blue eyes, hoping the connection would somehow express to him how grateful he was, how sorry he was, how much all that they’d been through together meant to him, how he regretted it ending this way –

“I love you,” Cas gasped.

All motion ceased.

The time from one heartbeat to the next stretched on endlessly.

Somewhere, miles, light years, away, Dean heard an echo of barn doors creaking open, lamps exploding in sparks, the rustle of wings. He felt the familiar leather of Baby’s front seat, the damp fabric of a coat fished from a lake, the firm clamp of a hand on his shoulder. He tasted pie and burgers and beer, smelled the ozone in the air after a lightning strike or an angel’s appearance, saw his mother’s face as she tucked him in and told him angels were watching over him.

Then the next heartbeat thumped in his chest, and he was in control.

In an instant he released the grip on Cas’s neck. Cas sucked in a strained breath as he slumped against the side of the building. Dean dropped to a crouch and reached out to him.

“Cas! Cas! Are you okay?” he asked, worry thick in his voice. “I’m so sorry, Cas.”

Cas waved away his concern, gesturing to give him a minute to recover. Dean found himself caressing Cas’s shoulder, his knee, his arm – desperate to feel that he was still there with him, to show that his touch wouldn’t harm.

“Cas, I’m so sorry for everything,” he repeated. Cas looked up into his eyes and nodded slightly.

“Abaddon?” Cas coughed out.

“I - I don’t know how long I can keep this up,” Dean explained. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the cold fear returned to him. He wondered if he had the strength to last long enough to do what needed to be done. “The First Blade –”

“I’ll get it,” Cas interjected, and started to climb to his feet.

Dean hated to rush the moment, but he knew he couldn’t hold back Abaddon indefinitely. “It’s back in the building, near the front door somewhere. I _need_ it.”

“Okay,” Cas said softly, looking intently at Dean.

“And Sam?” Dean added. He hoped his brother had wasted the other demon by now. He had one shot at this, and he wanted them all together.

“Of course,” Cas replied. Dean looked up at in him in thanks. Cas understood. He could always rely on Cas. Convincing Sam was going to be another matter.

He sat back in the dirt as Cas scuffled off to collect the Blade and his brother. His thoughts were like embers floating away from a campfire. He tried to grasp them in the air but they flickered out before he could catch them. All the remained was the burning feeling of knowing his death was imminent.

He would have to die to kill Abaddon. It was fitting – almost poetic. The Mark that he had taken on to gain his revenge had led him down a dark road that would finish them both. Ten minutes ago he wouldn’t have cared. But after what Cas said…

He couldn’t think about Cas. Not now. Not after avoiding him for months, so self-absorbed in his own problems, his narrow visioned quest, his all consuming lust for the Blade’s power. He imagined what could have been, if only things had been different. If only _he_ had been different. But a person only gets so many second chances. And he knew he didn’t deserve a fresh start.

“Dean!”

Dean looked up to what he knew would be his brother’s concerned face. Sam was running across the yard toward him, First Blade in hand, Cas in tow.

“What took you so long? Get your ass kicked by that mall cop of a demon?” Dean joked pathetically. He stood up and brushed the dirt off his jeans. He felt the temptation to draw this final conversation out, to push off the inevitable as long as possible.

No, the time for selfishness was over. He had a choice now, and he was going to make the right one this time.

“Sammy, remember when you said that if our situations were reversed, you wouldn’t do the same thing?” he asked.

“Dean,” Sam sighed in exasperation. “You want to talk about that _now_?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “Yeah, I do. ‘Cause I understand now. I thought you didn’t care about family, and I was really messed up over that. I’ve done things these past weeks… months… that I regret. But I get it now.”

Dean forced himself to make eye contact with Sam while he talked to him. The distressed look on his face was painful to see, but he owed him that much.

“You’re an adult. You can make your own decisions now,” he continued. “I’m not… Dad. I only wanted to protect you, but I know I’ve got to trust you to do what you think is right.”

Sam stared at him in silence. Dean thought he knew where he was going with this – Sam usually did – but didn’t want to say anything, hoping against hope that he was wrong. He licked his lips and rushed to finish.

“So I’m asking you now to do what you said you would do – and let me have that Blade so I can finish this once and for all.”

“Dean, no – ” Sam interjected. “There’s got to be another way!”

Dean said nothing. He bit his bottom lip and kicked the dirt in front of him lightly.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam went on. “Cas? You can’t be okay with this?”

Dean looked up at Cas. His face was the very portrait of misery. Dean wished he didn’t have to fight both of them on this.

“It’s Dean’s decision,” Cas announced.

“What?” Sam and Dean blurted out in unison.

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Cas said gruffly, turning toward Sam. “But this may be our only chance to kill Abaddon. Dean has the Mark. If this is what he chooses to lay down his life for, then – then we have to respect it.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said softly.

Cas looked at him sadly. He held the gaze for a moment then looked away again, composing himself.

His heart pounded in his ears. Part of him had hoped they would stop him.

“Sam?” he asked.

“Dean, you don’t have to do this,” Sam pleaded. “It doesn’t have to be you.”

“You know it does,” Dean replied evenly.

“How do I know you’re not just punishing yourself?” Sam asked.

“Weren’t you?” Dean countered. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t let this go on any longer. All the people that Abaddon will kill if we let her go – that’s on me. I can’t live with that. This ends now.”

They each stood their ground, turning over private thoughts in their minds. Cas hung back slightly as he often did when Dean and Sam argued.

Finally Sam moved. He stepped forward and held out the Blade to Dean.

Dean clenched his jaw and let out a sigh as the tension faded. He took the Blade from Sam and weighed it in his left hand.

“Thank you,” Dean said. “I – I know this doesn’t change what I did – ”

“Dean, I forgive you,” Sam said seriously. “I’ve made more than my share of bad decisions, and you always forgave me. We’re family. We’re brothers.”

Dean felt something inside him snap like a rubber band. His eyes watered and he titled his head to the sky to hold it back. _Brothers_.

A tear tipped over the brim as he looked back down. He stepped forward and embraced Sam in a tight hug. Why hadn’t he hugged his loved ones more in his life? Why was it always in dire moments like this on that he allowed himself to touch, to comfort and be comforted? Dean swallowed down the regret and tried to hold on to the moment, to memorize the sensation so he could remember it in whatever afterlife he might find himself it.

Finally he stepped back. He turned to Cas. He wouldn’t have thought there could be anything harder than saying goodbye to Sammy, and yet here he was, unable to even bring the words to his lips.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas said softly. “You don’t have to say anything.” He reached out a hand and laid it gently on Dean’s shoulder where his handprint once had been.

“No, no,” Dean found his voice. “I do. Cas, if there was anything I could go back and get another chance on, it’d be you. I’m sorry I never…”

Dean trailed off, unable even now to say the words. He forced himself to carry on, to explain somehow in these final moments. “What can I say? I was afraid. I still am. Terrified, actually. You’ve been better to me than I deserved and I can never make it up to you. You’re family to me, you know that. But – but that’s not all. I – I – ”

He gave up on words. He knew he was rambling anyways. All he could think about was Cas’s hopeful yet still sad face looking back at him, anticipating, hurting – all those emotions because of _him_.

Hell, it was now or never.

Dean dropped the Blade in the dirt and grabbed Cas by the lapels. He pulled him in roughly and closed his eyes. He knew Sam was watching, but he couldn’t care anymore. He pressed his lips to Cas’s desperately. He felt Cas’s body go rigid in his grip, then a moment later relax with a sigh into his mouth. Cas raised a hand to the nape of Dean’s neck, entwining his fingers in his hair gently as he deepened the kiss. He tasted like electrified air and blood and coffee and a hint of the chapstick Dean had given him. Dean’s heart pounded almost painfully. He felt a moment of panic at finally realizing the moment he had been terrified to even dream of. But it felt so right. And so wrong that it should be their last.

After what seemed like mere fractions of a second but what in reality was probably more than long enough to make Sam uncomfortable, Dean released his clutch and pulled away.

Ridiculous as it was, he felt a bit shy about making eye contact afterwards. He clenched his jaw and told himself not to be such a girl about it. Looking up at Cas, he flashed him one of his quick half smiles. Cas appeared to have left this planet for another dimension, mouth partway open and turned up at the edges, eyes focused on some indeterminate point in the distance. He caught Dean’s eye and fell back to Earth, pursing his lips and settling into his more characteristic neutral-to-grumpy demeanor.

“This is it,” Dean announced needlessly, throwing his arms out to the side then slapping his thighs as if to say there was nothing more to it.

He reached down and picked up the Blade carefully with his left hand. He rose back to Sam’s worried countenance.

“Um… dontcha think you should, you know, uh, turn around or go home or something?” Dean suggested. “I don’t need an audience for this.” He wanted to spare his brother and his… Cas… the horror of watching him die.

“We’re not leaving you,” Cas answered for both of them.

“Besides, we don’t know exactly what’s going to happen to you. Maybe – maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe Cas can do something…” Sam trailed off.

Dean knew that wasn’t likely, but he didn’t want to take such small hope away from him, so he just shrugged and said, “Okay, but it won’t be pretty.”

He gazed over the both of them one last time, trying to freeze the moment in time. But he could already feel Abaddon stretching and clawing at his insides. He had to finish this now or never.

“Thank you,” he said genuinely. “For everything.”

With that, Dean turned his back to Sam and Cas. He steadied himself and took a deep breath, then transferred the First Blade to his right hand.

Immediately that sickening yet addictive energy flowed through him. Everything was amplified. He suddenly felt he could take on anything – Abaddon, Metatron, the whole world. But he forced himself to focus, to remember the reality of the situation and how vulnerable he really was.

Placing his left hand on top of his right, he turned the blade inward toward his heart. Just like falling on your sword in the old days. An honorable death.

His knees felt weak and his hands trembled just a bit. _You’re doing this for Sammy_ , he reminded himself. _You’re doing this for Cas. You’re doing this for all the innocent people Abaddon would’ve killed. You’re doing this for you._ Finally he plunged the blade with superhuman strength into his chest, straight through the heart.

From a few feet back, Cas and Sam watched as Dean slumped forward into the dirt. Cas made to go to him, but Sam pulled him back as suddenly Dean’s body jerked in wild contusions. A blast of blinding light like lightning from a clear sky struck him and tributaries of electricity encircled his limbs. A deafening thunder blast knocked Cas and Sam back as the air compressed too close to where they’d been standing. As they recovered themselves, they saw Dean lifted off the ground, body limp but still surrounded by florescent light. It would have been beautiful, almost, if not for the fateful Blade protruding from his chest.

Dean’s head snapped and black smoke rushed from his mouth toward freedom. But before it could escape, strikes of electricity erupted outward from his body and seemed to scald the dark air, like a volcanic ash cloud on fire. Soon the air cleared and tiny particles of black dust settled, coating the ground surface in a circle around him. Dean’s body dropped suddenly from suspension, landing awkwardly face up with his legs twisted under him.

Cas and Sam ran to Dean, still clinging to the unlikely hope that Dean might have somehow survived the violent display they’d just witnessed. Sam straightened Dean’s legs out and Cas pulled him head and shoulders into his own lap, cradling him gently, careful to avoid exacerbating the harm that had already been committed.

“Is there anything you can do?” Sam asked breathlessly.

“He’s – he’s not gone yet,” Cas replied. He could sense a faint pulse and the shallowest of breaths. But it was only a matter of minutes, seconds maybe, till these dim signs of life were extinguished too.

He removed the blade from Dean’s chest smoothly, setting the damned thing off to the side and out of sight. Blood gushed from the wound until he slid his hand under Dean’s shirt and pressed into the flesh, sealing the gash and leaving only a faint scar.

“Did you heal him?” Sam questioned hopefully.

“Only on the surface,” Cas replied. “With this stolen grace, my abilities are unreliable and fading. He has too much internal bleeding – even if I tried to fix his damaged organs, the amount of power it would take is as much as all the grace I’m carrying, maybe more…”

Cas leaned over Dean and stroked sweaty bangs out of his face. He look more peaceful than he had in years.

A drop of water fell on Dean’s forehead and it took Cas a moment to realize that it was coming not from rain, but from him. Crying – that was a curious phenomenon he hadn’t experienced even in his short stint as a human. It felt… well, it felt terrible.

“I won’t even be able to see him in heaven,” he found himself saying aloud. “At least you, Sam, you will reunite one day, probably sooner than later…”

Sam couldn’t even make out a huff in protest. He just looked at Cas sadly. They both knew the spell couldn’t be reversed. Cas was locked out.

“If I were human like you I could follow him, I know it,” he continued. He wiped the tears from under his eyes with his coat sleeve, smearing on dirt and blood and making a bigger mess than he started with.

Cas stopped as the realization came to him.

“I have to try it,” he told Sam.

“What?” Sam responded, confused. “You have to try what?”

“This grace never belonged to me in the first place. It came by ill gotten means and it’s burning out. If I – if I can just try to consolidate all of it, we might have a chance,” he explained.

“You mean use up all the energy of your grace to maybe heal Dean? Won’t that leave you human again?” Sam asked.

Cas nodded. “Being human is not so bad, really,” he replied, trying to sound confident to convince himself as much as Sam. “There’s a lot that the angels miss – more than I ever realized.”

He forced a tiny smile and added, “Besides, I’m looking forward to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

Sam nodded but his brow creased with worry. They both knew how serious this was – how much Cas was giving up, how it might not even work.

Cas wiped his nose on his sleeve, leaving yet another dirty trail across his face, then focused on calming and clearing his mind. He knew he had to do this perfectly or it was all for naught.

He ripped Dean’s shirt down from the collar to expose his chest. He searched for all the grace within him down to the last tiny spark, agglomerating it and molding it into one pulsating radiant ball within him. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, allowing the energy to erupt from him.

At such a short distance and so recently severed from his own body, he could manipulate the grace just long enough for the task at hand. He guided it down till it seeped into Dean’s chest and vanished from sight.

Cas laid both hands onto Dean’s chest and searched for the grace inside. With the finest precision he wove it through the damaged organs, reforming Dean’s heart, sealing his punctured lung, and sucking all the blood back into his veins before mending those too. He was intimately familiar with every molecule of Dean’s body – he had done this before, after all, rebuilding Dean after rescuing him from Hell what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Cas’s pulse quickened as he realized that Dean’s own heartbeats had stopped. There was just a smidgen of energy left from the grace that had not yet been consumed. He pushed it through a wide artery and into the caverns of the heart. With his last burst of grace, he forced open the valve that could restart the palpitations.

Cas fell back in exhaustion as soon as the last reserve was gone. He struggled to pull himself forward and flopped bonelessly onto Dean’s chest, ear pressed where the Blade had been.

Thuh-thump. Thu-thump.

Heartbeats. Regular, living, healthy heartbeats.

He laughed, half guffaw and half sob. He closed his eyes and smiled into Dean’s shirt.

“Did it work??” Sam asked with a tinge of desperation.

“Yes,” Cas answered, sitting back up and looking to Dean’s face, willing him to wake up. He could see now the gentle rise and fall of his lungs filling with and releasing the breaths of life. Finally Dean’s eyelashes fluttered and his eyes opened.

“Dean??” Sam said, leaning over his brother.

“What happened?” Dean asked. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked back and forth in confusion between Sam and Cas.

“And what the hell happened to you?” he questioned Cas in a tone of half disgust and half amusement.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Cas replied.

Dean pointed to his own face and drew a circle in the air.

“Oh,” Cas said. He sniffled and wiped his face with his coat sleeve again. “Being human is unexpectedly emotional.”

“Hu- human??” Dean asked in disbelief. He looked over to Sam for confirmation but Sam just shrugged in response.

“What did you do, Cas?” Dean demanded, his voice hardening into a familiar tone of anger born of worry.

“I had no choice – ” Cas started to explain. “No, that’s not right. I had a choice. I made the choice to save your life by using up all the grace I had in me. I chose to be human.”

“Cas…” Dean said his name with fondness and lamentation. “You didn’t have to do that for me. You gave up so much.”

“I know,” Cas replied seriously. “We both knew the risks of our actions and made the sacrifice anyways. That’s just how we roll.”

He smiled and looked up at Dean bashfully through his eyelashes. Dean laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “Yeah, yeah - I guess is it.”

“Ahem,” Sam cleared his throat loudly.

“Right,” Dean snapped out of gazing into Cas’s eyes and climbed to his feet. “Thank you, both of you. Now we still have to deal with Metatron and Crowley – ”

“Another day,” Sam interrupted. He and Cas got up and started walking back to the Impala with Dean.

Sam saw the shy looks exchanged between the other two and slowed his pace a bit, allowing them a moment.

Dean threw an arm around Cas’s shoulders. Cas looked back at him and smiled affectionately.

“Now that you’re human and living with us,” Sam heard Dean explain. “The first order of business is to experience the best sensations the world has to offer humans – by which, of course, I mean pie…”


End file.
